


a very merry ...

by bluecarrot



Series: tumblr tumblr tumblr prompts!!! [8]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: All The Tropes, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bisexual Male Character, Canon Bisexual Character, Canon Gay Relationship, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Fluffy Ending, Gay Male Character, Holidays, Hotels, I Blame Tumblr, M/M, Power Outage, Road Trips, Romantic Fluff, Tags Contain Spoilers, Trope Subversion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-15
Updated: 2016-09-15
Packaged: 2018-08-08 18:42:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7768879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluecarrot/pseuds/bluecarrot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>written for kolminye, who said once</p><p>"i want a fic where every single attempt at a trope fails miserably. like “characters on an unwilling adventure end up at an inn. there are two rooms.” “fake dating? no, everything worked out.” “it’s really cold, let’s cuddl - what do you mean the heater isn’t brokeN???”</p><p>you want it, you got it, sweetums!!</p>
            </blockquote>





	a very merry ...

**Author's Note:**

  * For [enkiduu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/enkiduu/gifts).



> written 8/14/16 - 9/14/16 -- it's terrible and i apologize in advance

It started innocently enough. 

John Laurens was on his phone, checking email, when he made a noise that wouldn't have sounded out of place coming up of out of the New York sewers. "Oh no. Oh _no._ "

"What is it?"

"My family. Here, read it for yourself." He tossed the phone over and sank even lower into his chair. "Oh, no ..."

It didn't look like anything much -- just a few lines from John's father, telling him when they'd be ready to pick him up from university. And -- _What is your friend Alex doing for the holidays? We'd love to meet him._

"So ... what's the problem?"

"He's _terrible_ , that's the problem. My parents split up ages ago, and since then he's been sort of on my case to get a girlfriend." John made a face. "You can see where this is going."

"He doesn't know you're gay?"

"He doesn't really understand that  _anyone_ is gay, let alone his own son. It's sort of a funny thing to say about my own dad, but he's very sheltered."

"It's 2016."

" _I_ know that, and _you_ know that, but ..."

"Okay. Alright. So what are you thinking?"

John smiled -- that crooked smile, left over from a badly-placed baseball during one of their pickup games. it always made Alex feel a little odd and lightheaded. "Are you doing anything over the holidays?"

 

*

 

"Snacks --"

"Check."

"Gas."

"Check."

"Clothes and charger cables."

"Got it. We're good."

And they were off.

It was a long drive to John's father's place, through the mountains, and the forecast said snow. (The forecast _actually_ threatened a large amount of snow, possibly a blizzard, with an attendant ice storm, possibly lasting several days -- which Alex hadn't bothered to mention. John was a nervous enough driver as it was.)

They re-fueled at midday and then it was Alexander's turn, and he hadn't been bothered at all by the heights and sweeping vistas as a passenger but it all seemed a bit different now that it was only his own hands keeping them both from plunging off the side of the road and falling into the abyss.

The rain started, right on cue.

Alex slowed down a little.

"Alex?"

"Shush. I'm concentrating."

"Is this a _bad_ storm?"

"Absolutely not."

"We are going to get there in one piece, right?"

"Absolutely. No question." There might have been a tiny, minuscule question. Alex swore under his breath and kept going.

And they made it.

 

*

 

The clerk said: "Two occupants, one night. One bed." He glanced at them. "Right?"

"Two beds. We ordered two beds." John looked at Alex. "I definitely asked for two beds." He seemed ready to make a scene.

"It's okay. Hey. Chill, okay? We'll work something out."

John shut his eyes. "This trip is a literal nightmare. It's like the Seven Plagues of Egypt. I'm just going to stand in the parking lot and wait for the locusts."

The room was quite small. 

The bed was quite large.

John ran his hand over his hair. "Well, it's not so terrible. We could share, I guess. Unless you snore?"

"No one's ever complained," said Alex; he flushed a little. "I mean. Roommates and stuff. Not, you know. Not that I've ever -- I mean, I definitely have --"

"I've been told I steal the covers." He gave Alex a look that could only be described as saucy.

Alex cleared his throat. "I'll try to bear up manfully under the pressure."

John smiled -- and oh, that smile!

And then someone knocked on the door.

Housekeeping. With a roll-a-way bed. "Last one we had," said the man, cheerfully enough.

"Thanks," said John, with such evident gratitude that Alex wondered if he'd misread that smile after all.

 

*

 

It was not the most comfortable night Alex had ever spent -- the bed was old and lumpy and the room had poor weather-stripping; he could actually see the slight motion of the curtains responding to cold air leaking in from outside.

And then, sometime around two in the morning, he clearly heard the fizzzzz of power draining away. Even the streetlamps went out.

He sat upright in the suddenly-darker room. "Did you hear that?"

"Fuck me," said John Laurens, who was not a light sleeper. "What the hell time is it? Why are you talking?"

"The power just went out."

"Oh Christ, Alex, who cares? Go back to sleep."

"It's cold." And getting colder.

Silence from the bed.

"Could I -- maybe -- do you mind if I get in there with you?"

"You've got _clothes_  on, haven't you?"

"Of course I'm wearing clothes," said Alex, sounding as insulted as if he hadn't already considered (and regretfully dismissed) the idea of removing several garments before crawling under the covers with Laurens. "Who do you think I am?"

"Sometimes, Alex, it's a mystery to me." A squeak. "Your hands are like ice!"

"Told you I was cold."

"The heat just went out, it's not that bad --"

"I'm from the Caribbean. Anything under seventy degrees is basically unbearable ... You're nice and warm, though. Mmmm."

John said, stiffly: "I did not agree to cuddle." But he didn't move away, either.

"Just until I get warm," said Alex. He edged in a little closer. "I'm really glad to be doing this with you. There's no one I'd rather spending the night with." He cleared his throat. "I mean, since we _have_ to spend the night in a freezing, dilapidated motel room with no power, I'm glad that it's with you."

"Alex?"

"... Yeah."

"Please stop talking."

And in the brief interlude while Alex bit his tongue, they could clearly hear the distinct noise of electricity returning to the room -- and to the entire block, as the curtains radiated light again, and the radiator hissed and chattered to itself.

So Alex got up again and spent the rest of the night alone.

 

*

 

The next morning:

"You have footie pajamas."

"Shut up."

"You have _footie pajamas_."

"You just _wish_  you had pjs this cool. What is that -- Thundercats?"

"I like 80's cartoons, is all." Alex crossed his arms. John looked quite fetching, all things considered. "You can shower first."

 

*

 

John's father greeted him with a truly embarrassing amount of pleasure, evidenced by a semi-formal pat him on the back.

"Good to see you," he said.

John cleared his throat. "Dad. Hello."

And Alex, who was carrying the bags, said plaintively: "Can I come in, too?"

 

*

 

"Dad? Alex is my boyfriend. We're dating." 

He stopped dead. "What?"

"Dating," said John again, patiently. "Boyfriend. Kissing. Holding hands. That sort of thing."

Mr Laurens looked from one to the other; Alex wanted to dissolve into small particles, sink between the floorboards, make his way through the soil to the groundwater, and return to the primal depths of the ocean. 

Since that wasn't possible, he merely flushed red.

"You can't be serious."

"I am very serious. I have never been more serious in my life" (and indeed he looked serious) "than I am right now."

A long, painful moment of silence. Alex had no idea what anyone was thinking, including himself -- his consciousness seemed to have decayed to the intellectual level of a late-night infomercial.

Then: "So. Welcome to the family," said Mr Laurens, and held out his hand for Alex to shake.

 

*

 

"How long have you two been -- "

John looked thoughtful. "About two months -- wouldn't you say so, baby?"

 _Baby._  He couldn't deal with this. Alex said: "Um. Sure. Right."

"That's why I love you," said John, "your keen and elegant grasp of the colloquial."

\-- and Alex dropped his fork on the floor, with a clatter. He had to dive under the table to retrieve it.

 

*

 

Mr Laurens, perhaps in an act of mild retribution, invited them to a church event -- and somewhat to Alexander's surprise, John accepted.

Which was fine.

It was all fine.

Except

"My boyfriend," John kept saying, "this is my boyfriend, Alex." It came out a little more naturally every time he said it, and every time the person reacted a little  _un_ naturally -- with a quick double-blink, or raised eyebrows, or some other tell -- but every one of them was gracious and kind and warm and welcoming.

It was nice to exist (for a while at least) in the alternate universe where John was his boyfriend. And a particularly nice specimen of the genus he was, too, thought Alex, who wanted to tidy up the poof of hair and smooth down the wrinkles in his collar, and why stop? There were so many places to explore.

It was awkward. And the awkward thing, Alex thought, watching the man who would very shortly return to _not_ being his boyfriend) -- the _really bad part_ was that it wasn't actually awkward at all.

They made sense together. Every time John smiled at him or squeezed his arm or introduced him as "my Alex" or, god forbid, sat near enough for their legs to touch -- it was too much. It was too easy. It was too _right._

But he'd known about his crush for ages. Why was it such a damn problem now?

Because John was looking at him like Alex _meant_ something to him. There was a secret to his mouth now, a sort of promise, like they hadn't done everything yet but he wanted to and he --

Alex needed to stop thinking like this or he'd have to leave the church with a Bible positioned carefully over his trousers. Why did Laurens have to be such a good actor? 

 

 

*

 

"Have some hot cocoa," said a greeter, wearing a lanyard and a tag with Sharpie-colored flowers around his name. He winked at them: "There's plenty to go around."

There was, indeed, enough for each of them to have a cup to themselves. No need to share. Why was he not surprised?

 

*

 

"We'll give you some time alone," said his father, gruffly kind. "Here -- Alexander, take my scarf. You're not used to this weather."

Yes, thought Alex. I wouldn't want to have to share. That would be terrible, just _terrible_ , just --

 

*

 

They walked, slowly.

 

Snow crunched under their feet.

Alex played with the ends of his scarf.

"I guess you'll be glad to get back to school," he said, finally. "Even if it didn't work."

John's hands were stuffed in his pockets and his head was down, like he was trying to protect his face from the wind.

He looked rather cold.

Probably because no one had given him a scarf.

Well, Alex wasn't about to offer just to be shot down by the contrariness of fate. They clearly weren't meant to be together.

Laurens said: "I found out my father isn't as much of a jerk as I thought. That's not really a bad conclusion to an experiment."

"True."

"Even if it's not the one I wanted."

Alex couldn't look at him. He couldn't mean what he wanted him to mean. "Yeah. It's easier, sometimes, to hate people. Even if it's wrong. Especially family. Relationships are so complicated."

"No," sounding frustrated. "I mean, yes, relationships are complicated, but that's not what I meant. Hey. Stop walking. Hey. Give me that."

"The scarf?"

"Yeah."

So Alex unwound it and held it out, wordless --

\-- and was wordless still as John draped it around his neck again, and put a hand on his cheek -- he really _was_ cold -- and kissed him, soft and slow.

"I've been wanting to do that all weekend."

"I wanted to do that for _months_."

"Do you gotta one-up me all the time, man?"

"If you think that was impressive," said Alex, "what I show you tonight is gonna blow your mind."

"I assume you're talking about She-Ra pajamas, Alex, and I've got to say --"

He earned himself a shove and another kiss, and a very silly pair of boys went home hand-in-hand.

 

**Author's Note:**

> yell at me about all the tropes i missed & tell me how much better you would do it on tumblr  
> @littledeconstruction


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